Black Lover
by Tsuyu Mikazuki
Summary: A rewrite of JackOLantern. Nell Nemissen is called to a murder scene on her day off, only to find herself on the hunt for a man who killed her best friend. Even with Agent Pendergast's help, can she stop him before she becomes the next target?
1. Chapter 1: Who are you?

_Welcome, welcome. The re-write of Jack-O-Lantern is here. Thank my muses Adurna and Calpernia. They made this possible. I wasn't going to write this but Adurna hit me with an idea filled sack and this came out of the concussion. Enjoy…_

Chapter 1

October 25, 1995

New York City

Wednesday

The sky was a cast iron gray; it had been threatening to rain for several days now. I shivered as a gust of wind cut around my coat. I could feel goose bumps raise up on the flesh of my arms.

"What a shitty way to lead up to Halloween." I grumbled. Up ahead of me I could see the flashing lights of several emergency vehicles. What the hell was so important that I had to miss my first day off in a year? As I arrived at the crime scene, I noticed my friend and co-worker, Sergeant Dan Wells, standing off to the side, watching the proceedings while looking nauseous.

"This better be good Dan." I said in mock anger. He looked up at me, seemingly grateful for the distraction.

"Hey, Lieutenant." He said weakly. "I thought you might like to see this. I know how much you like stuff like this…" I nodded and walked over to the Medical Examiner, or M.E. Maybe I don't get out much anymore but I did not know this guy. I have an interest in forensics so I make a point of knowing the people down at the morgue. Anyway, this guy gave me a dirty look as I came over.

"Yes?" He snapped. I frowned, knowing who he was seeing. He was seeing a 5'10" slacker with chestnut hair, brilliant jade eyes, wearing a black tank top under a leather biker jacket, a pair of baggy pants in a broken grey-and-black pattern, and a pair of heavy black combat boots. It wasn't a Lieutenant of the NYPD he saw. Just a 28-year-old girl trying to be someone she's not.

"Is thatthe body?" I asked, pointing to the blue tarp at his feet. You don't call a homicide detective if there was no homicide.

"Who are you?" He snapped at me, again. I was getting mad, but, with difficulty, I suppressed it.

"I'm Lieutenant Nell Nemissen." I said and pulled my badge out of one of my many pockets. "So I'll ask you again.Is thatthe body?"

He gave me a sour look and pulled the tarp up without a word. I pulled on a pair of surgical gloves I had fished from my pockets and down at what the tarp had been covering. It was a black garbage bag. Scary, right? The only thing wrong with the bag was that it was sitting in a pool of bloody water. I knelt down next to the bag and pulled it open, recoiling from the stench of blood and rot. It was full of bloody pulp. And what was that sticking out of the ooze?

A finger.

It was a finger.

I covered my mouth in shock. I had seen people stabbed to death. I had seen people shot point-blank in the head. But I had never seen anything remotely like this. I glanced up at the M.E. He was…_smiling_? What a tool. I looked back down at the bag, trying to get my nausea under control.

About 20 minutes later, they forced me away from the bag, leaving me wondering how the hell they would i.d. the body. I wandered around, weaving between emergency personnel and fellow officers. Then the dumpster caught my eye. I stopped a sergeant to ask him about it.

"Hey, uh, Sergeant."

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Why isn't anyone bothering with that dumpster?"

"It was emptied yesterday. We figured there wouldn't be anything else in it."

"Never assume." I snapped. Where do they find these jokers? "It'll make an ass outta u and me."

"Yes, ma'am." He said and kept walking. Bad report heading his way, I can tell ya. I strolled over to the dumpster, which was one of those common green affairs, and pulled myself up against it. Then I peered inside. A piece of blue caught my eye and I reached in to pull it out.

"Ahhh." I gasped. Blood welled from a fair-sized cut on my palm. Carefully this time, I reached back in and pulled out the object. I placed it in my non-injured palm and stared at it, still hanging on the side of the dumpster. It was a piece of dark blue glass. It looked really familiar. I racked my brain trying to figure out what it was. I had seen it someplace before, but where?

The recent kidnappings.

About a week ago, two completely un-related were kidnapped. There had been no ransom note. There had only been a rag soaked with chloroform, and a black silk rose. And within the center had been a small piece of dark blue glass. The press hadn't been told about the glass. Was this really the work of the person dubbed the 'Black Lover'?

"This has to be coincidence." I told myself.

"It's very unwise to form a theory without any proof, Lieutenant." A smooth, richly accented voice cut through my thoughts, startling me so bad that I fell off the side of the dumpster into the puddle below. I looked up from my new position on the ground to see a guy wearing a fancy black suit. He had really blonde hair combed straight back from his forehead and matching pale blue eyes. He looked like he hadn't been outside for years. Even so, he was kinda cute. If you were into the whole vampire look-alike thing.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Pendergast." What's with that cryptic smile?

"Who let you in here?" I demanded, glaring at passing law enforcement. None of the met my eyes. This guy was a journalist. I could feel it. Who ever let him past the barrier was going to get in so much trouble. "You better not be a journalist. I loathe journalists. No comment." I sat up and glared at him.

"Special Agent Pendergast." He held out a thin hand to help me up. I rightfully ignored it and stood up on my own. I held my hand up to my face to inspect the wound. It wasn't bad. It had already stopped bleeding. I made a fist, which hurt like hell, and directed my attention back to Pendergast. He really did not fit my image of what an FBI agent should look like.

"FBI. Great…" He gave me a quizzical look for God knows what reason. "You people interfere with everything. I figured one of you would show up sooner or later. Just not sooner. Anyone else I should be aware of?"

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked. That accent of his was getting one my nerves. Where was he from, anyways? Alabama?

"You guys always travel in packs. I watch the X-Files." I tapped my chest then paused, "And I have no idea what that had to do with anything…"

"No. It's just me, I'm afraid."

"Me, too." I muttered. He looked amused so I figured he had heard me. "So what's you nonsensical reason for interfering? Did the perp sell drugs?"

"There was a murder with the same _mondus operandi_ in Chicago three months ago." Wha? Can't this guy say MO like a normal person? I've known him four seconds and already I want to strangle him.

"Wait. Did you say Chicago?" I asked. I was born there. Not really, but I hope I didn't know the victim.

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

"One Bara Minamino." An image began to form in my mind. Dyed pink hair, eyes like mine, glasses…

"No way. You've got to be joking." I said, panicking.

"You knew the victim?" Damn that accent.

"We used to be friends. We lost touch during collage." I took a deep breath. I was closer to crying then I had been in years. Pendergast looked slightly uneasy. I guess he wasn't used to cops bursting into tears in front of him.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. I rubbed my face rapidly and looked up at the sky. It was almost as if the sky was just as upset as I was. A fat raindrop hit my face. I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. Pendergast gave me an odd look.

"I'm going home to cry or something. This was my day off. I might as well use it."

"I'm looking forward to working with you." He said, all proper-like. Creepy.

"Same here." I said, then added, "I think." I frowned and looked at the piece of glass still in my hand. When I looked up, he was gone. Creepier. I pulled a bag out of one of my pockets and slid the piece of glass into it. Now I just have to find the evidence locker. This case was going to be interesting. But at that point I had no idea how interesting it was going to be.

_What do you think? Love it? Hate it? It all depends on what you think. I won't write a second chapter if no one likes it. Review and tell me what you think, what you like, what you hate, and what I should change. Help feed the starving artist. Please?_

_Chapter 2 preview:_

_I stopped talking. All of Pendergast's attention was seemingly directed at my lunch, which had congealed._

_"What's up? Is my uneaten lunch that interesting?" I peered at the plate. It looked like ambergris, a mix of macaroni & cheese and browned hamburger. _

_"What is it?" He asked._

_"That is an old family recipe called ambergris." His look said it all. Too late I realized that ambergris is a whale product. "It's hamburger mixed with mac-and-cheese." I clarified._

_"Ah." Stupid gourmand._

_"You want some?"_

_"No, thank you."_

_"Your lose." I took a bit of it for show. It actually wasn't that bad cold._

_Your reviews can make this chapter possible. So If you like it review. I will write it even if only one person enjoys it._


	2. Chapter 2: Ambergris, a whale product

_Calpernia is pretty happy with this story so far. Adurna doesn't seem to like it that much. No one's reviewed it so far. (Tear)Here is chapter 2 for your reading pleasure._

Chapter 2

October 26, 1995

Thursday

New York City

12th Precinct

The next morning I sat at my desk, staring blankly at a huge stack of papers that I needed to review. My lunch sat next to me, cold and uneaten. The one thing I hated about being a cop was paperwork. But that would have gotten me no matter what. With a longing glance at my lunch I sighed and picked up the top-most file; an autopsy report for the first body found. I skimmed through most of it. I really couldn't concentrate because of the reporters buzzing around outside the window behind me. I really needed some curtains or something. Finally, I found something of interest. The piece of blue glass, though common, was broken for the same larger piece of glass as the ones form the kidnapping scene.

That's not going to help much.

"Hmmm…" Then I turned a page and something caught my eye. Something about how they I.D.'d the body. Turns out, the finger I saw was used to get her prints. They had a perfect match to the girl who was kidnapped first.

"Poor girl." I muttered.

"Truly an unfortunate way to die. Wouldn't you agree, Lieutenant?" I must have jumped three feet in the air. I turned around. There stood Agent Pendergast, looking like an undertaker in his black suit.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded. My door had not opened. I was sure of it.

"Magic." He was really getting on my nerves.

"Ok, then. What do you want?" But I got no response. All of Pendergast's attention was seemingly directed at my lunch, which had congealed.

"What's up? Is my uneaten lunch that interesting?" I peered at the plate. It looked like ambergris, a mix of macaroni & cheese and browned hamburger.

"What is it?" He asked.

"That is an old family recipe called ambergris." His look said it all. Too late I remembered that ambergris is a whale product. "It's hamburger mixed with mac-and-cheese." I clarified.

"Ah." Stupid gourmand.

"You want some?"

"No, thank you."

"Sucks for you." I took a bit of it for show. It actually wasn't that bad cold. "So what did you want? I don't think this is a social visit. But if it is, I'm really busy."

He opened his mouth to say something. I held up a hand to shut him up. He gave me a questioning stare.

"They can read lips. Watch what you say." I said quietly and nodded towards the window. A reporter was sneaking around my window. "Fuging reporters." I stood up and opened the window. "GET LOST YOU LEECHES!" I then slammed the window closed and sat back down. "I'm thinking of getting some drapes."

"I see."

"What were we talking about?" I grinned and took another bite of my lunch. Let them photograph that.

"I wanted to inform you that a second, ah, body has been found." My left eye twitched.

"Alright." I stood up and walked to the door. "Are you going to stand there all day?"

"Are you going to put your lunch away?"

"No." I said with the air of favoring a small child. "I have to let it ripen." And, smiling because of the look on the FBI agent's face, I picked up my coat and strolled out the door.

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"Hey, Nell." I stepped out of my car to see Dan standing right in front of me.

"Were you waiting for me?" I asked.

"No…Yes…Maybe…"

"Decide. Now what's this all about? Ultra Cracker here says they found another body." Several officers nearby started laughing. Pendergast, who had just gotten out of my car, looked around unruffled. What's with this guy? Must people would be really upset with that comment. Whatever.

"Yeah. But wait! There's more!"

"Spit it out."

"It's a whole body. Well, not whole-whole, but mostly there."

"What does that mean?"

"Come see." I looked at Pendergast and shrugged. We followed Dan back behind the barrier. Yup. This wasn't as bad as yesterday. But I still had never seen anything quite like this.

The body had absolutely no skin.

"Wow." I said and patted my jeans pockets, looking for another pair of gloves. I didn't have any. Pendergast reached into his suit and took a pair out and handed them to me. I put them on and glared at his suit before asking, "How much do you have in that thing? Is there a sink?"

"Don't be absurd, Lieutenant." He then knelt down next to the body. He pulled a pair of gloves of his suit and put them on, before he began to examine the skin, or lack-there-for-of. I watched him, after asking if they were done with the body; roll it onto its stomach. He may look as skinny as hell but he seemed pretty strong. And he wasn't that bad looking either. After I realized the direction my thoughts were heading in, I shook me head in disgust and walked back over to the barrier to find Dan.

"Nell! Hey, Nell!" I turned to see who was calling my name. It was Allie Craven, one of my friends. She looked the same as ever, tall, chubby, with long blonde hair, glasses, and was wearing a shirt that said- 'Top 20 Things to Say to Get People to Leave You Alone.' I walked over to her.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her. She better not have joined the _Post_.

"Relax ya ho. I'm not a reporter. I know you've got a phobia when it comes to them."

"Yeah… So why are you here?"

"I saw the commotion and thought, 'Nell's the cause of this.' And boy, when I'm right, I'm right."

"This isn't a social gathering, Lieutenant." The familiar molasses voice said form behind me. I turned around.

"And I'm just about done here." I said, almost defensively. Dude. I never act like this. I must be getting sick. Pendergast looked at me for a bit. His eyes seemed to be trying to read my mind. Then he turned around and walked back over to the body.

"Who's the freak?" Allie asked me as soon as he was out of earshot.

"He's this FBI agent that's been making a nuisance out of himself. He also told me something interesting."

"And what's that?"

"Bara's dead, Allie."

"Serves her right. She was always to nice."

"Ha. That's true."

"What a ho." Allie calls everyone a ho. She has for years. That's just how she is.

"Anyway, I got to get back to work. Unless you want another run-in with the F.B.I. Agent of DOOM." I would later become a big fan of Invader Zim. I wonder why?

"Hey, how 'bout lunch tomorrow? Semi my treat."

"Ok." Allie turned to leave. Then she turned around. "Yes?"

"Bring your 'Friend'."

"Allie!" She vanished among the hordes of reporters and rubberneckers. Frowning darkly, I returned to looking for Dan. He found me about a second later. "Yes?" I snapped. He looked taken aback. I immediately felt bad. Dan hadn't done anything wrong. "Sorry. What did you want, Dan?"

"They found another piece of blue glass in the victim's mouth." So it wasn't another coincidence. I knew it.

"Ha! I knew it! Pendergast was wrong!" For some reason I felt really elated about this. I really must be sick.

"Calm down, Nell." Dan said, eyeing me worriedly. "It's no big deal."

"Yeah…" Wow. Did I feel like an idiot or what. It must have been the news of Bara's death. I was still in shock or something. That's it. I think…

"Oh, and Agent Pendergast wanted to talk at you." My eye twitched.

"What did he want?"

"He didn't tell me and I didn't ask."

"Great." I shrugged and headed over to Pendergast, he was deep in conversation with the first officer on the scene.

"I see, I see…" He said vaguely. I came up behind him and started making faces. Who said that law enforcement had to be serious all the time? The officer was trying his best not to start laughing. "Miss Nemissen, would you be so kind as to stop that?"

I frowned. "You're no fun." I thought for a moment. "HEY! You didn't call me lieutenant that time. I'm so proud…" I pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "Anyways… What did you want?"

"The autopsy is in half an hour."

"Ok."

"Aren't you going to go?"

"Yeah, sure, why not."

"Then would you be so kind as to give me a ride?"

"I knew there was a catch. There's always a catch…" This guy was something. Something else. "Why not. But I get to stop at my apartment. I'm sorta hungry." I stopped talking and we looked at the body bag. He gave me a look as if to ask, 'How could you be hungry after seeing that?' I shrugged. I used to watch really gory horror movies when I was little. That and my job sort of desensitized me from gore.

"Then let us go."

"I don't know where you're from but these New York guys are gonna eat you alive."

"I'm out of the New Orleans office." He turned around. New Orleans? He's a long way from home. Suddenly he turned back to me. "You know, I've been told that before." He had a pensive look on his face. I sighed. Why do I always end up with the weird people?

_So do you love it or what? Isn't it much better then Jack-O-Lantern? As before, Nell's life is like my own. So anything about her is most likely the same with me. Like her hate of jounalists. Leave a review and maybe I won't set Lamar The Moose on you._

_Enjoy your preview to chapter 3. Review and I may type it up faster._

I opened the door and got out. Pendergast stayed where he was. He looked dead.

"You alive over there?" I asked.

"Possibly." Wise-ass.

"You can come up with me, you know. I made soup. I'd feel bad if I didn't feed you. You're skinnier than me!" He opened one eye to look at me.

"I suppose."

"Cool. I made soup yesterday."

"Is it an old family recipe?" Defiantly a wise-ass.

"Don't make me put garlic in yours." He gave me an odd look. I seem to get a lot of those. "You sorta look like a vampire so I figured you'd be terrified of garlic." For once, he actually looked amused, and I could see the faint impression of a smile on his face. He had a nice semi-smile. Yeah. I'm totally overtired. "Oh yeah. Allie invited you to lunch with us tomorrow at 12:30."


	3. Chapter 3: Interrupted autopsy

_Here it is! I gots reviews so I'm happy. I kinda lost my train of thought as I finished this chapter. I'll make a stab at a 4th chapter at school tomorrow. I'll put it up as a preview and you can tells me what you think. But I don't promise that it'll be soon._

Chapter 3

October 26, 1995

New York City

Thursday

I hate driving in New York traffic. I really do. Nobody knows what the hell they're doing. At least we are almost back to my apartment. I glanced out the passenger window. I had almost forgotten Pendergast was in the car. I think he fell asleep. I wish I could go to sleep. Sleep related thoughts aside…

"God Damnit!" A taxi cut in front of me and I slammed on my brakes. Good thing too, it was a red light. I glanced over at Pendergast. How could he sleep through that? I shrugged and looked up just as the light turned green. Home was in sight; just not a parking place. It took five more minuets to find a place to park. And that was two blocks away! I parked my car and got out. Pendergast stayed where he was. He looked dead.

"You alive over there?" I asked, leaning over to get my bag.

"Possibly." Wise-ass.

"You can come up with me, you know. I made soup. I'd feel bad if I didn't feed you. You're skinnier than me!" He opened one eye to look at me.

"I suppose."

"Cool. I made soup yesterday."

"Is it another family recipe?" Defiantly a wise-ass.

"Don't make me put garlic in yours." He gave me an odd look. I seem to get a lot of those. "You sorta look like a vampire so I figured you'd be terrified of garlic." For once, he actually looked amused, and I could see the faint impression of a smile on his face. He had a nice semi-smile. Yeah. I'm totally overtired. "Oh yeah, Allie invited you to lunch with us tomorrow at 12:30."

"Really?"

"Yeah…" Can't this guy speak like a normal human? Then I looked him over again, black suit, pale skin. This guy was probably incapable of being normal.

"Where, pray tell, would we be going?"

"No clue. You'd have to ask Allie." I paused and looked around. "Dude, it's almost 6:30. I'm famished. Can we go upstairs now?" He nodded and got out of the car. This guy was really graceful; what a metro. I locked my car and began striding towards my apartment, trying not to care if Pendergast followed me or not.

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Ah, home sweet home. Pendergast glanced around the small, chaotic room. It's not my fault I don't have time to clean. My couch was buried under god-knows-what, probably magazines or something. There were books stacked up along one wall. Silence Of The Lambs was teetering precariously on top of the highest stack.

"Knock some stuff off the couch and take a sit." I said.

"Thank you, but I prefer to stand."

"Suit yourself." I said and hopped my way over floor junk to my tiny kitchen. I opened the freezer and took out a large Tupperware bowl. Ah, chicken noodle soup. Perfect. I nuked it in the microwave and ladled some out into one of my few clean bowls. I looked over at my sink. I don't think I can fit any more dishes in it. I dumped some more soup into another bowl and picked up two spoons left out from the last time I did dishes. They were kinda dusty but they would do. I walked out of the little kitchen to see that Pendergast had cleared off a section of couch and my cat, Toes, was sitting on his lap. Wow. Toes never sits on anyone's lap but mine. I dropped a bowl next to Pendergast. "Tada! And I didn't burn myself this time!"

"Thank you." He looked at me with an eyebrow raised. Good thing I can't blush or I'd be crimson.

"Aww… Toes likes you! That's saying something. Toes hates people. Right Toes?" The fluffy gray cat turned her amber eyes on me, purring contently. Pendergast absently reached a hand down to pet her head.

"Why ever did you name her Toes?"

"She likes to bite my toes when I'm asleep." I took a bite of the soup. Ah! Hot soup! I swallowed it with difficulty. Owww… My tongue. Pendergast must have seen my look. He looked concerned.

"Are you alright?" I'm really glad I can't blush.

"Yeah. Just burned my tongue. No big deal." I busied myself with eating the rest of it. I looked up from my now empty bowl and caught a glimpse of my wall clock, which was hiding behind the stack of books. "Ah shit. The autopsy starts in five minuets."

Pendergast looked up from the June issue of National Geographic. His face remained blank as he nodded. I stood up and took his half eaten bowl. "You sure were hungry." I said nodding at the dish.

"Yes, yes…" He picked Toes off his lap and stood up. The gray cat began to rub up against his legs. I swear she just wanted to get that black suit covered in fur. I tossed the bowls into the sink and pulled my coat on. Pendergast was already halfway out the door.

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"You Jerk!" I yelled out my car window. The jerk cut me off! I frowned, first out of annoyance, then because the guy at the other side of the light had his high beams on. "I hate driving in this city." I glanced over at Pendergast. I wonder what his first name is…. He looked kind of nervous. Maybe it was because I had just blasted past a stop sign going 50 in a 25 zone. I swerved to avoid a drug dealer walking across the street.

"Maybe I should drive next time." Pendergast said weakly. I slammed down on the brakes and came to a screeching halt outside of the morgue. I leaned back against the seat.

"I normally drive better. Hey, look at it this way. I got us here and we are only 4 minuets late." I got out of the car, locked the door, and began to hurry inside. "Lock the door!" I yelled behind me. "I want it to be there when this is over."

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Morgues always smell like formaldehyde. It burns my nose. I rubbed it and looked up from the floor of the elevator as the door slide open. The hallway normally creeps me out. I guess I didn't mind much today. Too much had been going on. I was still upset by Bara's death, but at a subconscious level. That's probably why I felt so blah. Pendergast knocked on the door to the autopsy room. The assistant opened it. I caught a glimpse of the brightly lit, stainless steel room.

"Ah, there you are!" A familiar voice boomed. "I thought you weren't coming!"

"Hey, Dr. Dave." I said, smiling at the short, black-haired man standing at the table. I had known David Westerfield since college. We had been pretty good friends back then. "Did you wait for me?"

"Alas, I did not. We just began the external examination of the body."

"Is this the body from earlier?" Pendergast interjected smoothly. David looked at Pendergast for the first time.

"Who are you, young man?" He asked, frowning at Pendergast.

"Special Agent Pendergast." The FBI agent pulled his shield out and held it out to David. He ignored it and stared at me.

"What have you done this time, Nell?"

"Not a good enough job, that's for sure." David laughed loudly at that. He has the most peculiar laugh. I don't know how to describe it.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Asked David, wiping his eyes. I nodded and donned a filter mask and rubber gloves.

"Subject 95823, John Doe. Resuming autopsy after the arrival of Lieutenant N. Nemissen and Special Agent Pendergast. The skin is again, missing from the entire surface of the body. There are deep marks on the wrist and ankles. I can see some fibers remaining in the wounds." David took a pair of tweezers and removed the few fibers. "They appear to be from a coarse rope. On examination of the left hand, the nails on the first three digits are missing, seemingly torn off. There is foreign matter under the rest off the nails. Can I get a scraping? Thanks."

I sighed and shifted my weight from my right foot to my left. The smell of death was really strong now. "Did you calculate the time of death yet?" I asked David. He frowned, as if trying really hard to remember it. That failing, he gestured to his assistant and they brought over the report.

"It was between 24-48 hours ago." He read. He looked up at me as he handed the report back to the assistant. I sighed.

"Wonderful." I said as I shook my head. "Just great. I thin-" An officer burst through the door. We all looked up at him.

"This is a restricted area-" David began. Pendergast, I had forgotten he was there, silenced him by putting up his hand. He hurried over to the officer.

"What's happened?" Pendergast asked him. The officer struggled to catch his breath.

"The…city is…in a. …uproar…" He gasped. "They…found…another…body…" I tripped over my own feet trying to get over to them. The officer seemed to be breathing better. "The captain wants to…see you. Now."

I glanced at Pendergast. His cool blue eyes seemed to say, 'We need to go now.' Then I looked back at David. "Dave, We've got to go. Can you send me the report when you're though?" David nodded mutely. I smiled weakly at him before darting out of the room, with Pendergast right behind me.

_Ain't it good? Nell is crushing on Special Agent Pendergast, big time. As I said before, there will be no preview. I'm sorry but I just finished the chapter and I don't feel like starting on chapter four just yet. I'll start working on it tomorrow. Maybe after dinner today. I don't know. Expect it within a week or two. Check my updates section for, well, updates on the progress of chapyer four. Please review and feed the starving artist. See ya'll later. (HEY! I useded an accent like Aloysius!) (I gots issues." - "; ) O-o_


	4. Chapter 4: More Pressure

_Sorry this took so long. I had a lot of stuff going on. But I got it up. Enjoy!_

Chapter 4

October 26, 1995

Thursday

New York City

One Police Plaza

By the time we reached One Police Plaza, the surrounding area had already been invaded by reporters. I pulled to a stop at the curb and in an instant my car was surrounded by journalists yelling questions at me through the windows. I sighed; this was not going to be good for publicity. But since when did I care? I scowled and through open my car door. It hit a lanky-looking fellow in the chest and he dropped his recorder. I smirked as he fumbled to pick it up before it got stepped on. Stupid journalist. I slammed the door shut and, over the din, heard the passenger door shut. I turned to look and saw Pendergast calmly threading his way through the crowd.

I frowned and began to push my way through the crowd. It was slow going. As I was dodging questions and cameras, the reporter from before caught up to me and began to walk backwards in front of me. I glared at him as he mumbled something into his infernal voice recorder. He looked like he just rolled out of bed. He finished what he was saying and thrust the recorder at me.

"Can you tell me what the police are doing about the murders, Lieutenant Nemissen?" He looked at me expectantly.

"Put that away before I break it." I snapped, glaring at him. How annoying. I was nearing the door, thank God. Pendergast had already vanished inside. That jerk. Leaving me out here with these scum… I was jerked from my thoughts as the damn recorder reappeared in front of my face. I growled lowly and snatched it from him. He opened his mouth to protest before I flung it across the street and pushed past him. As I neared the door I could hear him complaining loudly at my back.

I literally dove inside the building. As the door closed, blessed silence returned. I stood up and dusted my knees off to see Pendergast leaning against the wall in front of me. I glared at him in anger. How dare he leave me with such lowlifes! At my dark gaze, he began to chuckle. I really want to strangle him. But I couldn't. We had a job to do.

"Let's go, kid." I snapped. He stopped chuckling and smirked at me.

"Kid, hm? How old are you?" He asked, his face assuming a look of curiosity.

"A lady never tells her age."

"I don't see any ladies here." He said. I growled and looked for something to throw. Nothing. I started walking to the elevator as quickly as possible. I punched the button and winced. Now my hand hurt. I turned around to see Pendergast leaning on the elevator doors.

"I hope you fall." I said, listening for the elevator.

"Now why would you want that to happen?" He asked.

"Because it would be funny." Ah, ha! The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Pendergast stood up straight at the last minute. Damn him. I stepped into the elevator and hit the button to the floor the Chief's office was on. Forget the captain, the Chief of Police wanted to see us. As I hit the button, I tried to hit the door close button too. Pendergast slipped into the elevator and frowned lightly at me. I snatched my hand back from the panel and sighed. This was going to suck. I yawned. This was defiantly going to suck.

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When the elevator door opened, a flood of people surrounded us, Dan among them. I grabbed his arm and yelled, "What's happened?"

"They found a dismembered body of another John Doe." He handed me a report. I flipped through it before giving it to Pendergast.

"Copy-cat?" I asked.

"Can't be one. No one knows about the glass outside the police department."

I daresay we'll be seeing this in the papers tomorrow." Pendergast said placidly from behind me.

"Let's get to the Chief's office." I said. Dan made for the elevator. I grabbed his shirtfront and said, "You're coming with us, Shorty."

I don't know what the Chief was thinking when he picked out this decoration theme. I later heard one of my friends describe it as a suburban steak house trying to go upscale. I shuddered. I really didn't like the décor. Dan swallowed nervously. I don't think he had been here before on good terms.

"Welcome, Lieutenant, Special Agent." The Chief said from behind his faux-mahogany desk. I nodded and sat down. Pendergast remained standing behind me, which I didn't like at all. And Dan lurked in the doorway. He looked as happy as I felt. "So what are we going to do?" He asked us casually.

"We're working on it." I said indignantly. Damn my temper. "We where observing at the autopsy of victim 2 before you summoned us here."

"I don't want to here about what you where doing. I want to here about what you're planning on doing now."

"I don't really know. I'm tapped out of ideas."

"The Mayor wants this guy caught. 3 murders in 2 days do not pose well for re-elections."

I hate politics. They are not part of my business. I told him so. I don't think I've seen the Chief any angrier.

"I don't care what you think your business is. I want you to find this guy." He looked around. "And where the hell did that dammed FBI Agent get to?"

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"Thanks Joseph." I said. He locked the garage door. I turned the keys in the ignition. A single headlight lit up the area. I was at the garage where I stored my bike outside the riding season. But I needed to clear my head. Riding always did that for me. I would gladly freeze my ass off on my bike right now. I had traded my car for my black 90' Softail. I pulled out the choke to let the engine warm up. What a day. I couldn't believe the jerk Pen-somethingorother took off like that. I'm not to good with names. When the engine was warmed up, I pushed the choke in and put the kickstand up. To bad my bucket was at home. Oh, well. I'll get it tomorrow. I switched the bike into first gear and headed home, my thoughts drifting back to my hometown of PineCreek, Iowa.

_What did ya think? Sorry, but I haven't even started on chapter five yet. I'll work on it tomorrow. Oh, and can you guess why Pendergast vanished? If you can, you win a fabulous prize! So, I hope you all enjoyed it, AndI'll hurry up with chapter 5. Reviews will make me type faster. (Not really but I'd like it.)._


	5. Chapter 5: Close to home

_Sorry this took so long. Writers block, emotional problems, family issues, laziness and school all played a part in the delay. But it's 6 pages long. I hope that makes up for it, well, at least some of it. Enjoy._

Chapter 5

October 27, 1995

Friday

New York City

12th Precinct

"Where is he?" I yelled, sweeping through the doors to 12th Precinct. Dan glanced up from the reports he was reading as slammed my fist down on his well-kept desk. It made my desk look like a war zone in comparison.

"Where's who?" He replied, putting down the report. He was used to my temper by now. Before I could answer, he grimaced at me. Instantly, I knew why. He had noticed my wallet chain. Ok, I guess it's a bit odd for a Lieutenant to wear a chain but hey, when wasn't I being odd? Ah, well. The crumpled steel links had earned his contempt from the first day we began to work together. I never told anyone, but that particular chain had saved my leg from a very sharp and very rusty piece of steel.

"That blasted FBI Agent. Who else?" I snapped. Who else would I be talking about? Ok, sure there were a lot of people I could have been talking about. But who was I mad at right now? Pendergast. I could picture him: tall, thin, pale, always in that black suit, and weird. Really bizarre overall. How could anyone stand to work with him? I guess I would have to find a way though. Maybe I was just making everything more difficult by being so belligerent. I thought that over for a bit. As much as I hated to say it, that probably was the case. Suddenly, I became aware that Dan had gone back to reading nervously. The entire precinct had gone quiet. I turned to see why everyone had gone silent.

Pendergast stood in the doorway.

As he stood there, he calmly surveyed the large room, his silvery eyes traveling from person to person. As his cool stare met mine he paused, and my heart fluttered slightly. He held my gaze for several moments more before moving on. Soon he noticed the first responding officer from the last scene, the one that was found while we were attending the autopsy. She had only been here about a week but I never had a reason to talk to her. Hell, I didn't even know her name. She was tiny. She had a small frame, bright copper hair, and lots of freckles. She looked as much like a cop as I did. At the moment she seemed oblivious of everything around her, leaning against her desk, hands wrapped around a cup of the weak coffee that was here to greet us every morning.

She looked shaken, staring off into space like she was. I guess seeing your first real crime scene does that to you. I had been meaning to talk to her about what she saw. But now it seemed that Pendergast was going to beat me to it, as he had walked over to her and began to gently ask her questions about the scene. I would have headed over to them right away but I decided to wait a bit. I wanted my heart to act normally again before I went over by Pendergast.

Pendergast leaned closer to her and muttered something to her. She smiled broadly and whispered something back to him. Whatever she replied with, he didn't seem to like. He stepped back slightly and turned away. I strode over to them briskly. Pendergast had stepped away from the girl, eyeing her in a way that was almost uneasy. Shooting him a glare, I took the girl by the arm and pulled her several feet away. In doing so, she lost her grip on the flimsy Styrofoam cup. It barely missed me on its way down to soak into the hideous carpet. I groaned inwardly. Nell strikes again. Allie's brother Kevin used to call me 'Queen Disaster'. But that was back in high school. I'm still pretty clumsy, though. The girl, who I later found out was named Bertha Lynn, stared at me, unperturbed.

"What's up, Lieutenant?" She stared intently at me, her voice carrying no trace of the traumatic site she must have seen.

"Are you ok?" I asked softly. Death didn't bother me. Or anyone else in my family. In fact, my cousin Tiare worked as a morgue assistant. She's studying to be a forensic pathologist. Of course, it bothers most others.

"That guy..." She said softly. I leaned closer to catch what she was saying. My ears would severely regret it. "THAT GUY WAS FALLING APART AT THE SEAMS!!!!" She shrieked. I stumbled backwards, hands over my ears. The high-pitched squeal was followed by a harsh cackle of laughter. I slowly pulled my hands away from my ears. How many mental patients managed to trick their way through the police exam these days? Did they make it easier? I pondered that until I felt it was safe to fully uncover my ears.

Soon, the loud peal of laughter faded away. I stared at her with my head slightly tilted to one side, as if the different angle might make her act more normal. She walked away, wiping a tear of humor from the corner of her eye. Dan came up behind me. I twisted my head the other way before turning to face him. I was a bit more than slightly wierded out. That girl was insane! I turned my hands towards the ceiling as a question. Dan shrugged. I shook my head. The long side bang I never bothered to tie back fell across my right eye. I pushed it behind my ear.

"What. The. Hell." I said slowly.

"From what I've heard, she's a good officer." Dan said helplessly.

"She's insane."

"Look who's talking." Dan grumbled. I glared at him. I wasn't insane. I'm just a bit random. Yes. Random...

I walked away from Dan and over to Pendergast. I wonder what his first name is? When I'm not mad at him anymore, I think I'll ask. I poked him in the chest, noting how he didn't seem comfortable with the slight physical contact, and began to rant.

"Where the HELL did you disappear to yesterday?" I snarled, stabbing him in the chest with my finger again. He took a slow, deliberate step backwards, out of my reach. How lovely. I crossed my arms and glared silently at him, waiting for an answer.

"No good morning? No 'it's nice to see you'?" He asked.

"Now if only it really was nice to see you." I shot back, certain he was making fun of me. "Where did you go? I don't like being reprimanded for both the length of this case _and_ your disappearing act."

"Du calm, du calm, my dear." He held his hands up, palms towards me. I growled, actually growled. Now he really was making fun of me. "I was looking into something rather important."

"Rather important, huh?" I think my jaw fell off. "I'm done!" I threw my arms up in the air, spun around, and stormed into my office, slamming the door shut behind me. Trying to collect my wits and my self-control, I slowly sat down and promptly slammed my head down on the scarred and pitted desk. Stars exploded behind my eyelids. I kept my head down and thought about my actions. What was is about Agent Pendergast that set me off like that. I've never met anyone more intolerable. Then why can't I get him out of my head? I hit my head again, though not as hard. Ok. I was acting childish. Wincing, I raised my head and slumped back in my chair. I'd have to start using more self-control. Sighing, I surveyed the horrid mass I call a desk.

Wait.

One of the many files that littered my desk was new. I picked it up. It was the autopsy report for the latest body found. Then I read the name.

Kevin Craven.

Allie's brother.

I burst back into the main office. Somewhere past the headache, I was aware that everyone had looked up from what they were doing to watch me. Sometimes I feel like I'm nothing more than entertainment to these people. I tossed the file onto Dan's desk.

"Why didn't anyone tell me this autopsy report was here?" I asked. Poor, poor Allie. Kevin may have caused problems in their family but this...

"It is?" Dan asked, frowning. Slowly, I became aware that Pendergast was standing far to close. He was about 4 inches away from my. I felt my cheeks turning pink. To counter this, I chomped down on the tender flesh on the inside of my cheek. Pendergast reached past me a picked up the thick sheaf of papers. He flipped through it. I watched him with an eyebrow raised.

"Kevin Craven, age 25. He was cut into 16 pieces and deposited in three dumpsters in the same alleyway. A piece of blue glass was found lodged in the roof of his mouth." Pendergast summarized, dropping the file back on Dan's desk. The two of them then got into a discussion on different forensic facts about the case. I, on the other hand, was a bit more preoccupied. Just hearing those things out loud made everything seem a lot worse. And don't get me started on that accent. Actually, I don't think I can complain about it. It took a lot of that self-control thing to keep myself from cracking my head open on Dan's tidy desk.

"I'll tell Allie." I didn't know I had spoken until I realized that both men were now staring at me. Dan, I'm ok with. But those icy blue eyes just sent a chill up my spine. Ignore the eyes. "I know his sister. I'm going to lunch with her in about three hours." I checked my watch. 9:18. I was close. Pendergast said something about coming with. I nodded. "Allie did invite you."

"Allie never invites me to lunch." Dan mock-whined.

"Finally! There is a God!"

"Allie?" I started, then thought better of it. I looked up from my hamburger to see Pendergast looking at my plate with the same expression he had when I was eating that bowl of Ambergris. I took a bite of the burger, and was dissapointed when my tomato fell out. I gave up on eating and dropped the hamburger on the plate. We were in a small cafe near Allie's apartment. We were sitting at a small, square table. And we had just given her the seemingly not-so-awful news of her brother's recent death.

"I was about time someone bumped him off." She raised her glass in an invisible toast. "To the Black Lover! Thank you for removing that jerk from the face of this planet."

"Aren't you the least bit upset?" Pendergast asked her.

"Why should I be?" Allie took a swig of the beer she was holding. Well, if Allie's not upset, why should I be? After all, I believe that you have to let go of grief or you'll never be able to live your life fully. I should change the subject to something a bit more informative.

"Anyways," I said loudly, glaring at the two of them. "Did he have a boyfriend or a lover that you would know about?"

That's right. Kevin was gay. And to think he was a football player.

"Lover, I wouldn't know about. But he did have a boyfriend. Some fashion designer named Ricardo. I think he works at Prada."

"You mean Ricardo Diaz?" Both Allie and Pendergast stared blankly at me. "I saw something about him on TV when I was looking for the Scifi channel." That's the truth, I swear. Do I really look like I care about fashion? I glanced down at my clothes. I was wearing camo trip pants and a black tank top plus my standard black combat boot. My bike jacket hung on the back of my chair. Then there's the wallet chain and the other dangly steel odds and ends I wear off-duty.

"Do you perchance know where he would be?" Pendergast asked, taking a sip from a mug of green tea he had ordered when Allie and I ordered lunch.

"Naw. But I gots my brother's address." She said. Allie does a poor imitation of Pendergast's accent. "Maybe he'll be there." She scribbled something on a clean napkin, balled it up, and threw it at me. The small projectile bounced off my forehead and landed on the remains of my now cold burger. I snatched it up and smoothed it out. Classic Allie. I had no idea what it said. I rolled my eyes. Maybe that FBI guy can make sense out of it. So, I showed it to him. He took it from me and peered at it closely. Then he nodded and tucked it inside out his suit.

"Well, I've got to get going." Allie announced. I stood up and slung my jacket over my shoulder. The rich scent of leather washed over me. I love that smell. Pendergast took one last drink from the chipped mug and gracefully set it back on the table. How the hell does putting down a cup become graceful?

"I'll see you Allie. If you think of any reason anyone would want to kill your brother, call me, ok?"

"Other then he was a major player?"

"That's a pretty good reason right there." Allie smirked and headed for the door. Once she reached it, she turned back to us.

"Take your time catching this guy. But when you do get him, I want to thank him." Before I could say anything, Allie pulled on her coat and maneuvered her bulk through the revolving door. I once broke one of those. There's a long story. I pulled on the jacket and turned back to Pendergast, who was still sitting at the table with a thoughtful look on his face. I frowned.

"I take it you can read her writing." I said. He nodded slightly. "Then can you tell me where Kevin lived?" He inclined his head slightly again. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and waited. Several minutes past. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

Instead of answering, he stood up and made calmly for the door. I planted myself in front of him.

"Hello? I'm talking to you." Maybe I should be more respectful to higher-ranking law officials. Or I should keep at it and be fired or something.

"I think you should come with me to the victims apartment. I have some things to _discuss_ with you on the way there." There we go. He's kicking me off the case for sure. I could almost feel Bara's disappointment beating down on me from where ever she ended up.

"You're kicking me off the case, aren't you?" I asked. The scuffed tips of my boots suddenly became the most interesting thing in world.

"Is that what you think?" I could hear a bit of bewilderment in his voice. "Heavens no. You have a _unique_ view on things in this case. It would be most unwise to take you off this case." I looked up in shook.

"Really?" After how I behaved? I'm surprised I haven't been demoted yet.

"Really." He gestured to the revolving door. "Shall we go?"

"Sure." I pushed my way out onto the cold street. I turned around to find him directly behind my. I blinked once, and then turned back to the street. The only parked car nearby was a silver Rolls-Royce. Deciding that couldn't be it, I turned back to him. "So where's your ride?"

"Off to your left a bit." That was the Rolls.

"You've got to be kidding."

"Not at all." He opened the passenger door. "After you, Ms. Nemissen." I tripped into the car and sank into the soft, white leather seats. Lord, he even had a driver. The man was reading the sports section of a newspaper. Pendergast handed him the napkin. The driver nodded and Pendergast slid gracefully into the car next to me. The large car pulled away from the curb, and Pendergast turned to me, a large file suddenly on his lap, and asked, "Where shall I start?"

_I had to end it there. Sorry guys. I guess you'll met Ricardo next chapter. I hope to have that one up soon. Remember, threats give me motivation. And motivation makes me churn out these atrocities committed in the guise of creativity faster. _


	6. Chapter 6: Awkward Emotions

_Ta da! I actually updated it. Ya'll will hate me for this chapter. And the next one. And the next_ _one... _

Chapter 6

October 27, 1995

New York City

Friday

"No!" The short man next to me wailed in anguish. "My Kevy can't be dead! He just can't!"

I sat on a very uncomfortable modern sofa next to the famed fashion designer, Ricardo Diaz. His normal composure had crumpled completely after we told him about Kevin. Special Agent Pendergast had gotten lucky and had managed to slip into the only chair, leaving me to sit next to the distraught Latino. You know, I think I'd rather sit on Pendergast's lap then sit next to Diaz any longer. The second that idea popped into my head, I instantly began to wonder what would be happening if I was sitting on his lap. Let's just say that everything I could come up with was something Allie would think up. I was almost glad when Diaz latched onto my arm and started sobbing into my leather coat. That got my mind away from its indecent thoughts almost instantaneously. I glanced regretfully down at the black leather. I'll have to condition it again.

I patted Diaz awkwardly on the head. "We need to ask you some questions about Kevin. Is that ok, Mr. Diaz?"

He looked up from my arm, eyes bloodshot and puffy. I felt really bad for him. He was really upset over Kevin's death. Across the room, Pendergast threw one leg over the other, catching my attention. He had made it clear on the drive over to Diaz's apartment that he wanted to do the questioning himself, with no interference from me. I guess he thought I was incapable of doing anything right. The idea of that hurt. So much for my views on things. Ass.

"How well did you know the victim?" Pendergast asked, his tone business-like and severe. Diaz sniffed and thought for a moment.

"I've known him about four years. Next week would have been our fourth anniversary." Diaz burst back into tears. I glared at Pendergast and patted him on the head again. It felt like touching a porcupine. Diaz's short brown hair was spiked and the tips were bleached an almost platinum blonde.

"Did he have any enemies?"

"Just the football fans that didn't like it when he came out. That's why he doesn't pl-play any more." He pronounced football like it was a dirty word. I don't much mind football. I used to play it in grade school a lot. Nothing formal, it was more like we just tackled each other. I don't know how many outfits I ruined while playing with the boys.

"Had he ever gotten any threats from these disgruntled fans?"

"Just a lot of hate mail." Diaz sniffed. "No death threats or anything. Well, there was this o-one. But he's in Rikers now."

Rikers is a prison that, oddly enough, sits on Rikers Island. Inmates there are usually waiting bail or serving sentences of about one year or less. I think it's the largest jail in the country. There are a couple guys I caught in there. Here's hoping another one will be added soon.

"When was the last time you saw him?" I asked softly, ignoring Pendergast's warning glare. If he wants to play good cop/bad cop and be the bad cop, I guess I'd have to play the good cop. Diaz let go of my arm and sat up. He smiled weakly at me. I waited until he looked away before sticking my tongue out at Pendergast. Take _that_, you jerk.

"About a week ago." Diaz said, standing up and moving to the large picture window. There was a spectacular sunset beyond the buildings. I wish I were out in the country again. You could see the sunset in such detail. I have memories from summers years ago of watching the sun set over the creek in the back corner of our yard. There was so much going on at our house in those years. I miss it at times like this. Oh yeah. That bastard Nathan is turning 24 this year. I should send him a letter bomb. Nathan is my younger brother by blood. But I'm not related to him. Not after what he did.

"I was so busy with my next show that we didn't get a chance to see each other." Diaz's voice quickly jarred me from my memories. Man, do I keep zoning out today. I re-focused on Diaz. A single tear ran down his cheek. Pendergast was staring at me in such a way that I knew if I spoke again, I would be in trouble. Big trouble.

"Where were you between October 23 and October 24?" The fatal question. I glared at the pale FBI Agent. Diaz hadn't even surfaced as a possible suspect. I mean, it's good and all to check, but not like you think he's the murderer. I already knew there would be no holes in his alibi. There's _news coverage_ of him in Chicago on those days.

"You can't possibly think…" Diaz started, turning away from the huge window. Pendergast's gaze was cold. I shivered involuntarily. This man sends shivers up my spine without touching me. I wonder what he could do if… Ah! Mind out of the gutter and into rush hour traffic. I'm supposed to be mad at this guy, remember? Jesus. "So you think I killed him, hmmm? Well detective, I was in Chicago last week. All last week. That's why I hadn't seen him. Check my credit record if you don't believe me. I bought one round trip ticket on the 19th."

I stood up, my knees protesting the sudden use. To hell with the consequences.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Diaz. Is there a number we can call to get in touch with you?" I asked, maneuvering directly between Pendergast and Diaz. I felt a breeze behind me as the FBI Agent got to his feet. I refused to let myself react in any way. I was not about to let him intimidate me.

"Yes, I'll write down my home and work numbers." He moved to a small end table. He opened the top drawer and drew out a pen and a single sheet of creamy white paper. "Please miss, call me Ricardo." He said as he wrote. When he finished, he folded it up and offered it to me in two fingers. I took it and tucked in into on of my many pockets. No way Pendergast is getting this. He'd have to search every pocket, and I wasn't about to let him do that.

"Ok. We may need to talk to you again." I leaned closer, under the pretence of trying to say something without Pendergast hearing, though I had a strong feeling it wouldn't matter. "I'm sorry about my friend." I whispered. Diaz looked me in the eye and smiled.

"Good bye." He said to me, walked right past Pendergast without a word, and poured himself a brandy. I left before anything else needed to be said, and was really relieved when Pendergast followed me.

Out in the hallway, I turned on Pendergast fiercely. To hell with rank or respect or anything. I was more disgusted by my earlier train of thought than I had been, if that was possible. But before I start in on my prepared rant, Pendergast spoke.

"I do apologize for acting in such an unseemly manner. My methods are unorthodox, but I find they work rather well." He held his hand out and, without thinking, I removed the folded sheet of paper from my pocket and dropped in into his hand. He opened it, examined it closely, and then slipped it into that bottomless suit of his. He stared at me for a bit longer before walking off to the elevator, leaving me in the middle of the hallway, blinking in complete confusion. What the hell was with this man? Why are all the hot ones completely insane? I mentally kicked myself. Mind out of rush hour traffic and onto the interstate.

"You can't really think Ricardo Diaz killed him." I called, hurrying out of the building behind him.

"I don't habitually form and share theories with others, Lieutenant."

"You do know that we're _working together_ on this, right? You know everything I've found out. Granted, it may not be much, but shouldn't I get to know what you've got up your sleeves? You have to be up to something. Your disappearing acts and the fact you have no reasons behind them sorta points that out." I looked pointedly at the back of his head. He stopped, sighed, and leaned against the metal railing on the stairs leading out of the expensive apartment complex.

"Theories created prematurely in an investigation are more often than not proved false and waste valuable time and resources." He stared at me intently. I shivered again, but I think it was from the strong gusts of icy wind coming out of the north.

"Ummm… Right." Maybe the investigation would be going better if I wasn't fighting him every step of the way. He really seems to know what's going on. I'm pretty helpless compare to him. I didn't like that feeling. Not at all. I sighed and sat down on the railing across from him. Tiare was the brainy one. She probably would have had this stupid thing solved by now. Especially since she would be working with Agent Pendergast. Somehow, this was a very depressing thought.

"Miss Nemissen…?" The smooth, honeyed voice woke me from my pool of self-anguish. I looked up and almost fell backwards off the railing. Pendergast was maybe three inches from my face, peering at me intently. No matter how close I wanted to get to him, this may be just a little too close.

"Have you _ever_ heard of personal space?" I asked, gasping. That got my heart jumping. I made to push him away but he stepped back to a decent distance. I stood up, feeling a lot like growling. Why did he have to make everything difficult? "Did you want something?"

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" He asked. I rubbed my ass, ignoring the look I got from him. The damn thing fell asleep. I must have been sitting there longer than I thought.

"I guess not. Was it the almost falling off the railing thing that tipped you off or…" I stopped talking as something occurred to me. I had no way to get home. That being said, I wasn't sure where home was. My bike was park near my apartment and I had hitched a ride from Allie to the café.

"Is something the matter?" He asked. He probably thought I had gone simple from the stress or something.

"Not really. But that's if you don't count having to find a taxi that knows it's way around the city at this hour." Night had fallen while we were in Diaz's apartment. The streets were as empty as they ever got. And there was no taxi in sight. Did I even mention I hate living in New York?

"I would be honored to provide you with a ride home." He said, fishing a pager out of his pocket. I raise an eyebrow. Honored? That I doubted. First this guy pulls rank on me, and then he wants to give me a ride home. Let me repeat myself. Why are all the hot ones insane? That or taken. I looked at his left hand. No ring. Either he was single or he really wanted to keep his professional and personal life separate.

"I hope you don't expect me to say, 'I would be honored to accept.' or something lame like that. But a ride home would be nice." I smiled at him and was surprised when he smiled back.

………………………

Now that I think about it, I don't know why I took him up on his offer. Nor did I know why I smiled. Ok. I guess I can't lie to myself for that long. I think I like Agent Pendergast, more than one should in a working relationship. I'm just kidding myself though. Like he'd ever feel the same way about me. All I can do is hope I'll act more like myself now that I've admitted to liking him, even if only to myself.

So Pendergast paged his driver, and we waited. I wanted to stand as close and as far from him as I could. It's that strange feeling when your near someone you like, the want to be close but the fear that they'll get weirded out if you did get too close. I concentrated on the sky instead. It was a beautiful collage of blues and violets. There were a few wisps of cloud, but no stars. That was one thing I missed most living in the city. You can't see the stars with all the light pollution. I don't know the last time I looked up and actually saw the real sky.

It seemed like forever, but at last the expensive silver car pulled up to the curb. Pendergast opened the door and patiently waited for me to stumble into the vehicle. Again I sank into the soft leather seat. I was glad there was no forced conversation; the FBI Agent seemed as lost in his thoughts as I was in my own. In no time, we were at my apartment. I guess he wasn't asleep on the way here, was it only last night? I was glad to be getting away from him.

I got out of that car as fast as I could. A bit too fast, actually. My foot caught on the curb and I fell, throwing my hands out in front of me to stop my fall. My right hand came into contact with the course cement and burst into pain. I sat up and gasped. The cut on my palm, which I had forgotten I even had, had been torn open again, and was bleeding profusely. What a perfect way to finish today off.

"Are you alright?" The smooth voice asked from somewhere above me. I looked up to see Pendergast hovering over me, looking concerned. I hadn't even heard him get out of the Rolls. That man moved like a cat. Oh, speaking of cats, I needed to feed Toes. The last time I forgot to feed her, she took matters into her, uh, paws. I still have the scars from that.

"Yeah, fine." I leaned my head back against his car and bit back tears of pain and humiliation. Why, oh why was I such a klutz?

Pendergast crouched down in front of me and held out his slender hand. "Let me see."

Reluctantly, I put my hand out. He took it gently and turned my wrist so my palm faced up. I stared at him, trying to figure him out. Either he didn't know I was staring at him or he didn't care, as he didn't look up from my hand. Somehow, the paleness of his skin and the aristocratic build of his features made him look so striking. I had to bite back a lot more than just pain this time. With a brief glance up at me, he ran the tip of one cool finger along the length of the cut. It stung badly. Involuntarily, I draw my next breath through my teeth in a sharp hiss. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok." I said. We both looked back down at my hand. There was blood all over his hand too. It reminded me of red roses on white sheets. It took a lot to force my mind away from _that_. Mind off of the interstate and onto the fucking Eisenhower, man.

"Well, it's not bad." He said, looking ruefully at his hand, still holding mine. For a wound that wasn't bad, it sure bled a lot. Suddenly, I didn't want him to leave.

"You could always come inside and wash your hands." I suggested. He looked back up at me, his cool eyes staring at me intently. Why was he still holding my hand? "Are you going to let go of my hand anytime soon?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Nemissen." He slowly let go of my hand, almost reluctantly.

"If you want, you could call me Nell." He blinked slowly.

"Then I'm sorry, Nell." He hesitated for just a second longer before he stood up and offered me his hand. I paused for a moment. What had just happened? I'll figure it out later. I took his hand with my good one and let him pull me to my feet. This time he let go of me right away. Maybe it was just me, but his hand seemed warmer. And his face had a bit more color. Or I was imagining it. Whatever. I figure that out later too. Fishing around one of my pockets, I pulled out my keys and tossed them at him. He caught them in one hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Why did you just give me your keys?" He asked. I tucked my bleeding hand in the crook of my arm and winced.

"So I don't get blood all over everything. You do have less on your hands. Also, I am completely helpless with my left hand." I explained, sounding as if I thought it was completely obvious. He shook his head at my explanation and walked into my building. I followed, getting more confused and annoyed with myself with every step.

My apartment was still a complete mess, but that was normal. I tripped over a shoebox and looked around for Toes. She sat on top of a bookshelf, looking as if she was about to pounce. Not good. Not at all. I pointed at the bag of cat food with my good hand.

"Could you feed Toes whilst I find some gauze? Her bowl is over there, by the window." I asked, and then pointed at the old yellow food dish with the word 'Beast' scrawled on it in a childish hand. Beast was our old tomcat. That cat was huge. I took his bowl with me when I moved. Pendergast inclined his head slightly and carefully picked his way over the piles of debris to the bag of active maturity cat food. I watched him for a moment before stumbling my way over to the small bathroom. For once, something I needed was right in the open. The gauze sat on the edge of the sink. And I managed to bandage my hand fairly well, even though I am right-handed. When I emerged from the small bathroom, the FBI Agent was nowhere to be seen. Oh, no, there he was. He was examining the books I had on caves on one of my bookcases.

"All yours pal." I said. He looked up from the books and stepped past me, into my miraculously clean bathroom to wash his hands. I really need to find something to take my mind off of him. I know, I'll read something. That'll kill an hour or so. Actually, I wonder where my yearbook went. I could swear I saw it just the other day… I stared out over the sea of junk. This was going to bother me until I found it. I began stacking old magazines on my sofa. The only periodicals I got were National Geographic and Time Magazine. Pendergast appeared next to me.

"How are you doing?" He asked softly.

"Huh?" I looked up from my hardwood floor. I hadn't seen it in months. "Why?"

"Two people you know have been brutally murdered in the last week." He picked up a copy of Time from March of '92 and rolled it up. He tapped it against his palm and said, "That would bother most people."

I picked up a stack of blankets, wondering why he hadn't left yet. I would have thought he'd be glad to get away from me. I wasn't the most pleasant person to be around. I looked over the ragged comforter I had since I was three at him. "Oh, that. Well, sure they're dead. But you've got to let go of grief. If you don't, it will rule you. And you can never move forward in life."

I knew all about that. I've had to let go of quite a bit of grief. At the thought of it, my shoulder began to ache. Ignoring it, I glanced down at the shoes books, and other junk I had just uncovered. Tossing the blankets through my bedroom door onto my mattress – a mattress on the floor, nothing else – I bent down and picked up an original copy of The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair. I stood up and turned to Pendergast, the old brittle book in one hand. "This could be worth something. What do you…….think?"

He was still tapping that same issue of Time against his palm, staring off into space. I took a step closer to him, opening my mouth to ask if he was ok. Suddenly, he looked up, his pale eyes staring directly at me. His gaze was so intense, I drew the book to my chest and closed my mouth, almost afraid.

"I'm sorry. I have imposed on you long enough. Goodnight." He dropped the magazine, which slowly unfurled itself amid the crap on my floor, and set my keys down on the arm of my couch. Then he gave a slight bow and left. I followed him to the door.

"Goodnight, Agent Pendergast." I called after him, leaning my forehead against the doorway. I watched his retreating black-clad back, sad to see him go. Did my line about grief upset him somehow? Puzzled again by the turn of events, I went back inside, securely locking the door behind me.

About ten minutes later, I was in front of my building, unarmed, pacing, and alternating between wanting a cigarette and wishing I smoked. I had found the yearbook, but the murders I was supposed to be solving distracted me from everything, even my thoughts about Agent Pendergast. The question that really haunted my mind was the most important one. What did all these people have in common? What tied them all together? Why did the Black Lover choose them? And was Bara really the first victim? I was getting a sinking feeling that I had something to do with all this. I did know two of the victims. And when I really thought about it, the other two sounded familiar, as if I had heard about them before. I really was hoping it was just an unfortunate coincidence.

"Nell? Eleanor Nemissen, is that you?" The sound of my real – but hated – first name woke me from my pace-induced thoughts. It was Chicago accent, and the voice belonged to a girl about my age with long, dark blonde hair, almost brown.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked calmly, hand drifting down to my hip, where my gun was supposed to be. Of course, I wasn't armed. Its just habit now.

"Gertrude Jones. We went to Southlake High together." Now I remember her.

"Gertrude 'The Foot' Jones, how are you?" I asked, glad to see another familiar face. She had been on Southlake's state-winning swim team. I wasn't able to swim anymore, but I helped as an assistant. Meaning, I'd time people and set up the heat schedules and stuff like that. She was called 'The Foot' because in her freshman year, she had foot surgery that left scars shaped like turtles. It started out as Turtlefoot, but it got shortened over the years.

"I'm doing good. Have you gone swimming recently? I know a really good pool and…" My smiled vanished as quickly as it appeared. "Oh, right. Forget I asked."

"I'd really love to chat, but I've got work tomorrow and I need to be as awake as possible." I wanted to catch up, I really did. But I had to concentrate on the Black Lover case. At this rate, I was going to be fired any day now.

"What do you do that you'd have to go into work on a Saturday?" Saturday? Oh, I guess it was Friday. Damn. I still had to raise an eyebrow at her question though. I was in all the bloody papers. How could she not know?

"I'm part of the Black Lover investigation." I said, glancing up at my window. The lights were on. I'm not looking forward to my electric bill. Or my rent.

"Oh…" Gertrude seemed to be at a loss of words. That never happened when I knew her. I guess we all changed. It had been ten years. Then, something else she never did. A random topic switch. "Do you want to catch up at lunch Saturday? I know a great place not too far from here."

"Alright." We traded phone numbers, said our goodbyes, and then she left. I was alone with my thoughts again. Something was bothering me. Something gnawing at the back of my mind. And I could not put my finger on what it was. But somehow I knew it was key to this case.

_Now tell me they aren't both mooning over each other. It's sorta like me and the kid I like, but Aloysius isn't completely oblivious to it like he is. I swear, this kid needs to be smacked... Anywho, review it. I'm working on the next chapter. I only have 2 pages. Ain't that great? I've only been working on it for, oh, three months. Ok, I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll see ya'll later! _


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